A common question I hear when I talk about consent is “how does one have completely consensual sex?” What the person asking is usually trying to say is that asking for a “yes” during sex kills the mood or makes it awkward; from my personal sex experience, this is not so.

Before I even start to do anything of a physical nature, my boyfriend and I ALWAYS ask each other if the other wants to have sex. Because sometimes you are simply not in the mood- and no matter what the reason, that’s okay. It does NOT mean that you do not love your partner, or that your relationship is bad, or that you do not enjoy sex. A number of factors contribute to sex, and you could be tired, not feeling well, stressed, pre-occupied, etc. Too many people think that once you are in a relationship it is acceptable to expect sex whenever: sorry, sex is not a perk of dating, and consent is still important no matter how involved with your partner you are.

That being said, the definition of consent is going to change from person to person. I do not need my boyfriend to seek consent from me before or during foreplay, but some people might be more comfortable if their sexual partners seek verbal consent for and during foreplay. The thruline isn’t about when consent is obtained or for what activity: the point is that consent is important, no matter what your comfort level. Before we have sex my boyfriend always checks to make sure I still want to, and I feel comfortable telling him when “no.” That is something that every single person who has sex should feel comfortable doing.

In my opinion, consent is sexy. There is no bigger turn on to me than knowing my boyfriend cares about me and respects me enough to make sure that I am 100% into whatever we are doing. So I have consensual sex, and I have it all the time. Asking someone, “hey, are you okay with this?” isn’t awkward: it’s sexy.

My whole life as a woman, I was told how to avoid rape. The usual advice of not dressing “slutty”, not parking far away from buildings, not going out after dark, not going places alone. All of these “precautions” were a reaction to the stranger myth of rape and sexual assault- the theory that a woman will be attacked by a complete stranger. It never occurred to me that I could be assaulted by someone I knew: I went on dates with men and never thought to be afraid of them or their roommates, although they certainly also could have raped me as soon as any stranger. Thankfully, that didn’t happen, but certain lines were crossed.

I went on a few dates with a guy I will call “The Eternal Frat Boy” due to his love of drinking and partying- constantly. He was a nice guy, but somewhat of a “player.” Either way, The Eternal Frat Boy and I ended up in his room making out. One thing led to another and eventually he just grabbed my hand and stuck it down his pants. When I froze and didn’t do anything, he became upset. Eventually he just let it drop, but looking back on that scenario I have multiple thoughts on the situation, including the coercion ploy of his being upset, his lack of interest in obtaining consent, the lasting feeling of shame and embarassment that I felt afterward, and lastly: the fact that I am in no way alone in telling a story like this one.

When women assert themselves in not wanting to do something sexual, they are told that they are prudish, naive, and unsatisfactory. It is total crap. We have the right to say when we are uncomfortable, even if our Eternal Frat Boys weren’t expecting it.

Another scenario involves the “California Boy.” We went out a few times, ended up making out and at one point we started to get semi-naked. We were making out when I felt his fingers moving towards my vagina, and I quickly asked what he was doing. He shushed me and stuck his finger inside of me. Was it as traumatic as other forms of sexual assault or rape? No. Was it invasive, scary, semi-traumatic, and wrong? Yes. He never asked me if I wanted him. A common theme explored in “Yes means Yes!: Visions of Female Sexual Power and a World Without Rape,” the anthology edited by Jaclyn Friedman and Jessica Valenti, is the need to focus on exploring the “Yes” of sex and not the “No” of violation. There are too many people that think women who don’t say “yes” still want sex. This is not true.

Sadly enough, I did not really come to terms with what consent was until I began dating my current boyfriend. One night we began kissing and he stopped, looked at me, and said, “are you sure you want to do this?” I was honestly taken aback. Two seconds forever changed how I look at consent. This is how every sexual encounter of any kind should be for everyone: one or both partners looking for the “yes.”

The issue of consent, and our respective lines, came up fairly early in mine and my partner’s relationship. The morning after a night of heavy drinking, he asked if we had had sex that night. I replied that we hadn’t:  he was much too drunk, and I didn’t want to take advantage of him. He didn’t seem to find a problem with sex in such a state of inebriation, explaining that “having sex is something we would have done drunk or sober.”

My partner and I have very different views on what constitutes consent. For him, the green light is given at the beginning of the relationship, while I feel safer granting permission, be it verbally or nonverbally, each time, and staying in full control of my body and the situation. These kinds of boundaries must be reconciled and respected in order for any relationship to work.

I made it very clear at that point that if I am drunk- repeating conversations; blacked out; falling asleep in an alcohol-induced slumber- or otherwise too under the influence to make a conscious, responsible decision about whether or not I want to have sex, then I am to be left alone to pass out in peace. Even more unpleasant than a hangover is the feeling of being violated.

There is no gesture sexier, more attractive, more moving, or more conveying of respect, than waking up to find yourself still in last night’s clothes, curled into the same fetal position in which you fell asleep (with a blanket protectively draped over you), and turning over to see your partner fully clothed as well, surrounded by obvious signs of sexless evening. For me, that strict observance of my boundaries and respect for my line, my sense of safety, is more romantic than any traditional display of affection; consent is the modern woman’s jewelry and flowers and chocolates and white horses and chivalrous brouhaha.

How one defines safety in a sexual situation is difficult, as it is a concept that is subjective, often circular in its logic, and privy to changing at a moment’s notice. For me, however, safety is as simple as being with someone with whom saying “yes” is just as easy as saying “no.”

Hello, everyone! My name is Sarah Haack, and I am part of the new crop of bloggers here at Where Is Your Line?

Originally from Richmond, Virginia, I now attend American University in Washington, DC (along with the fabulous Carmen Rios, fellow Vagina Monologues cast member and she-ro) as an Environmental Studies major. I will be studying Linguistics and Scandinavian Studies at the University of Gothenburg in Sweden next year, but in the meantime, I am living in New York City, interning with the Girl Scouts of the USA, and learning the finer points of navigating bureaucracy, planning potlucks, and empowering women and girls.

I toured AU during the April of my senior year in high school, taking in the campus one last time before sending in my acceptance letter, and vividly remember the painted t-shirts strung throughout the student center in preparation for Take Back the Night, part of Sexual Assault Awareness Month. One statistic struck me in particular: that one in three women are sexually assaulted. Still in high school and rather naive, this number resonated as tragic, but hollow, sympathetic but not empathetic. Two years later, I found myself standing on the before those t-shirts as a survivor. It is selfish, I admit, to not really take up a cause until it affects oneself directly, but when I was puff-painting my own statistic on that white v-neck after a realization that took a full year, I finally understood the impact of today’s hookup culture and its implications, and how important it is to open the lines of communication not just about sexual assault, but about sex itself. The perceived “gray area” of sexual assault needs to be eliminated, and replaced with standards where a YES! is just as important as a no.
I was drawn to Where Is Your Line? by its sex-positive attitude and celebration of sexuality. Consent is more than knowing when to say no, but also knowing you can say yes; it’s feeling safe enough to enjoy sex that meets your standards, whether it be with a long-term partner or a total stranger, and being strong enough to draw a line that is either non-negotiable or ever-changing. The pervasive rape culture in which we find ourselves dictates that our demeanor, our alcohol consumption, and even our outfits, are all indicators of our willingness to be sexual- and can be interpreted as such without any discussion. And yes, my miniskirt and five-inch heels are an expression of my sexuality, but that does not (necessarily) mean I want to share that with you. Believe me, if I did, you’d know it. I’d tell you. Just ask.

After the film screening of THE LINE at Barnard College, I was asked to fill out a sticker with my answer to the question “where is your line?” It was difficult for me to put into words what my line specifically was, because it is constantly changing. I thought, well I guess my line is this and that, but wait, what if I had a bad day, I wouldn’t want anyone near me! It is so hard to express what my line is in one sentence- my comfort levels can change with time, my environment, and sometimes even what I am wearing.

My decision to have sex made it difficult for me to express a line in high school. Back then, rumors about my sexual past made boys think that I would automatically have sex with them because I had already done certain things. But having sex was a decision that I made because I thought I was in love and I felt that I was ready to lose my virginity, not an invitation for dirty text messages or naked pictures. Those rumors made establishing my line a lot more difficult during high school. I didn’t like upsetting people: I wanted to make a guy happy by playing along with flirting, regardless of whether or not I felt comfortable.

Looking back at this, I thought of my answer: “My line is what makes me HAPPY at the end of the day.” Over time, I realized that the most important thing about any decision I make is my own happiness. I believe that any decision is justified as long as I can look in the mirror and still be proud of the person that I see standing before me. I have learned to be more comfortable speaking about my sex life and saying no to sex. My sexual life is supposed to make me happy, and regardless of what I choose to do, I want to be able to look in the mirror and know that I did it for my own happiness.

Blogging about sex, like sex itself, is dependent on interaction with other people. They both hinge almost entirely on open communication, and without the ability to communicate, you’re not gonna write a good post (or have a good sex life). My feelings about blogging about sex relate to my feelings of sex in general – the contradictions regarding consent and privacy, emotion and openness, that are inherent in communicating such personal things, possibly some of the most personal things, to other people. Sex is THE most socially constructed element of society, and we put a massive emphasis on its privacy, which is why we don’t see more people openly fucking in the streets.

Destroying rape culture and promoting openness and consent is a worthy fight that can be done on a grassroots level, by speaking out, telling personal stories and behaving with respect in all sexual interactions. As a straight feminist cisgender man, I want to be able to use my personal life to help the cause. I believe in open sexuality, nonmonogamy, and communication at all times – I don’t identify as queer, or polyamorous, or most sex labels, mostly because I don’t want to leech onto a label to define myself or my sexuality.

But how could I write on a blog, about consent of all things, personal details about MY sex life, which of course involve other people? That I’d share without their knowledge or consent? Or course I won’t use their names, but a hookup is (or should be) built on a foundation of trust and communication. Part of that is the assumption (and hope) that one party won’t share private details with everyone they know or go bragging to a vast amount of people – which is essentially what I would be doing by sharing it here. Outside of writing on a blog, in my real life, I want to be open with the people around me – especially the ones I’m sleeping with.

How can I talk about my sexual experiences and not cross the line?

When Jaclyn Friedman responded to my love letter in October, I was, to say the least, ecstatic. She’s an inspiration, a feminist visionary and co-editor of the hailed Yes Means Yes! Anthology, and is already working on her next project, a book called What You Really Really Want: The Smart Girl’s Guide to Sex, Safety, and Sanity In A World Gone Mad.” (By the way, the book is exactly what it sounds like- a workbook to help women decide what they want sexually and how to communicate it best.)

I wanted to talk to her about how we talk about rape culture, the idea of “the line” and what we call (or don’t call) “hook up culture”.

‘Hookup culture’ is bunk

Jaclyn said.

I like hooking up- casual sex is fine with me as long as everyone’s talking about it.

To Friedman, using the term “hook up culture” creates a smokescreen around the way young people are having sex and forming relationships, and she feels it brings the blame back on women.

It’s not a mistake to want to hook up with a guy. It is a mistake to rape somebody.

Friedman hopes that sexual interaction is eventually just accepted into mainstream culture, no matter how casual or involved. I wholeheartedly agree. Taking away the stigma from all forms of consensual sexual interaction makes for a healthier, non-hypocritical society, and something I work toward in my activism. But from my perspective, hookup culture isn’t just casual sex culture, it is different. And everyone is talking about it. What goes on here on my campus, and across the country, is indeed a phenomena (and not the Laura Session-Step slut-shaming kind).

Professor Caroline Heldman at Occidental College outlines some clear trends and statistics in her forthcoming research of college students. She tracks the end of dating culture and serial monogamy, emotional disconnect from the physical, and a rotation of partners. “Hooking up” is a temporary state: hookups come with no guarantees of second dates, of texts and calls, or even of other physical interactions. Hookup culture is the idea that the quantity of relationships is more important than the quality. I’ve written in the past about some of my own experiences navigating this constructed culture, and I know as a student that it is pervasive.

Not all colleges are alike, but for the most part we are in an environment where partying and drinking is standard, no parents or authority figures are to be found, and resources are scarce and often intimidating. Hookup culture is also a product of the 2.0 generation, a new culture to accommodate young people who are learning about each other online and hitting on each other over kegs. Hookup culture is not casual sex- it is more, or in some ways, less. It is casual, emphasized by the new idea of “friendship” and the already experimental culture of college campuses; it is casual, enhanced by alcohol, recklessness and often manipulated by the most sober person in the room. It is dangerous, and exciting, and it is a very real part of collegiate life.

Adults who engage in casual sex are participating, many times, in a system that accommodates different needs. Whereas adults engage in casual sex oftentimes for their own pleasure or even as part of the search for a committed or poly partner, students are hooking up to gain experience, experiment, and learn more about themselves through their own sexuality. Both casual sex and hooking up are – or should be- about pleasure and individual desires, as well as respect, but hooking up is much more removed from the spectrum of dating.

Friedman feels that the behavior is influenced heavily by the rape culture that surrounds us in our everyday lives. Whether you want to use the language, however, is not the point: Friedman and I agreed on every other point we discussed. Its clear that whether adults or teenagers are hooking up, whether you’re experimenting or set in your ways, seeking a partner or seeking a good time: you will be challenged by the cultural norms surrounding your pleasure.

And whether or not you’re Jaclyn Friedman, feminist extraordinaire, you can play a huge part in changing all of that by standing proud, expressing your desire, and placing respect on top of all of your priorities next time you hit the frat house.

“Do I make babies in my mouth? … cum somewhere else… and I’m not suggesting it… I’m telling you…”

My trip to Colorado this week was amazing! I had a screening at University of Northern Colorado, in Greeley, a town made famous by the cow dung aroma described in Fast Food Nation. I stayed with Professor Nick Syrett, author of “The Company He Keeps: A History of White College Fraternities” who in his previous life was my travel partner in far flung adventures in the Middle East, Maghreb and the hallowed halls of Tina Turner concerts. The film was the kick off event for UNC SAFE week, sponsored by the Women’s Studies Department, The Assault Survivor Advocacy Program, the prestigious gentleman of Nu Alpha Kappa Fraternity, the local police, and more. Had the pleasure of meeting Historiann there, too.

I was told that the student body leaned toward conservative and that many of the students were married. I cringed through the dirty parts of my movie and hoped I wasn’t traumatizing anyone. The screening had over 80 students in attendance, folks asked great questions… and as evidenced above, they were not shy about speaking their minds!

Last year I was a baby at Sex::Tech. I soaked up the intersections of public health, youth sexuality and technology for the first time. Scribbling in pen (pre-twitter!) notes on HIV/MSM/CDC/STI/SMS in my notebook… my mind buzzing from meeting like minded people using tools I hoped to access. I screened a rough cut of THE LINE during an unconference session and started to think critically about designing an outreach campaign to talk about sexual consent. @vniow introduced me to twitter, and I had yet to meet @melissagira who would work with me on creating this campaign. On my way out, I struck up a conversation with a woman on an elevator, and we discussed a critical missing element to our experience: the discussion of self-esteem, self-regard, and the emotional state of the subjects profiled. Basically, the “why” behind the what.

Flash forward to this year where Sex::Tech 2010 was a messy & complicated affair. In my opinion, this is a really good thing. There were major disagreements in style and approach to Sex Ed (mainly SexReally’s video: sexist and stupid v. funny and effective), frustration about whose voices are amplified, who can access technology and why we need to talk about pleasure.  Here are some highlights from the keynote and twitter:

Queer youth get stuck figuring it out for themselves, since no one wants to answer our questions!” Include us!

Queer sex ed should be part of all sex ed, why not? We’re all in the same classes together at school!”

Salon rightfully slams that horrid “Guys are a@#$%^&” PSA from @SexReally seen at #sextech last weekend. http://bit.ly/csCgx3 (@vniow)

As Queer young POC at #sextech we did not feel acknowledged around our intersecting identities (@colorlatina)

Missing from sex ed: talking abt what to do w/feelings of lust, or love, that may come w/sexual intimacy. Not *just* abt condoms, STIs, etc (@tallanna)

I had the honor of presenting on two panels this year, and I was both excited and nervous, about the first one especially. “I Am A Feminist Sex Educator” moderated by Scarleteen’s Heather Corrina, with Dr. Jess Fields, author of “Risky Lessons: Sex Education and Social Inequality”, Educator Cory Silverberg from About.com and Come As You Are, Third Wave Foundation’s Melissa Gira Grant and me. As a filmmaker and activist, I was uncomfortable with the official-ness of the term “educator” but there were drop-outs in the room, and voicing my anxiety helped!

We kicked off by naming how we got to feminism, our backgrounds, experience, work and focus. Some highlights from the panel and the simultaneous tweets:

Two reasons to call ourselves feminists: 1) It connects w/history, movement. 2) It holds feminism accountable to represent us. -@JessFields

There’s no sex in #feminism? (like no crying in baseball) Bullshit! -@heathercorrina

Sexuality is such a racialized issue in USA and we don’t meaningfully talk about it in #sexed -@jessfield

Especially since I present as a man,” @corysilverberg says, I call myself a #feminist #sex educator cuz it REQUIRES explanation.

@melissagira suggests using “gender justice” along with #feminism when we talk about #sexed #sextech

Can BDSM be “feminist”? Does it matter?

Seems like there is still a lot to unpack re: #feminism, #sexed #gender justice & messaging when trying to reach #youth at #sextech

So there was the Twitter conversation and the public conversation. Confession: I actually tweeted during the Feminist Sex Ed panel, and another time I was called out for not posing my question to the group. Keynoter Beth Kanter discusses the back channel conversation. I personally love that you can pick up threads later, see what points resonate, or what pisses your audience off.  Should those of us using twitter speak our questions and issues to the larger group? Is that disruptive to the panel or the room, or does it facilitate more lively conversation for those not in the room? Are we hiding behind twitter or having multiple conversations?

Using the Twitter back channel following my second panel “Reducing Stigma Through Social Networking” I was able to track the points and themes that stood out the most for people. This panel highlighted Whereisyourline.org alongside the work of Exhale a private and secure online space for women to discuss abortion, and the St. James Infirmary Clinic a for sex workers by sex workers health clinic. This was a space to talk about stigma and how peers talk and support each other. Some thoughts that floated around (sorry @mkeagle, they’re mostly yours!):

We raise women to survive in a rape culture, but we do nothing to talk to men about not raping. wow. (@mindofandre)

Wondering if @thelinecampaign deals with male rape victims, rape within LGBTQ communities etc… (@mkeagle)

So many awesome points here: sex workers looking for services, not being “rescued” or “saved.” (@mkeagle)

Really great audience question- can we reframe “consent” so it’s not so much aggressor v. gatekeeper?

Yesterday we talked about the challenges of accessing closed online communities; Exhale is pointing out some real positives. (@mkeagle)

This panel was incredibly exciting for me – it was complicated, and dealt with shame, stigma and emotions. A young woman approached us after the panel and shared her personal story, one that included all of the experiences that we had just named. She cried and smiled, and expressed relief that she had encountered a space at Sex::Tech to do that.

Other parallel conversations happening during the conference or over drinks:

Feeeirce back and forth about “hook up culture” was happening: a monolithic and clumsy term? “adult”? madeup panic? Most recently sparked by Rachel J Simmons, Kate Harding, Amanda Marcotte and more… and always, our blogger Carmen’s first-person war story.

Poly Sex v. Casual sex: can you have real intimacy w/strangers? managing expectations, “About Love,” by Bell Hooks, “Trouble With Normal” by Michael Warner and pending research from Heather Corrina.

… oh yea, and BDSM and Feminism. Why label specific sex acts “feminist”? credit BDSM culture for how we talk about verbal consent, and oh man, let’s hope college students are engaging in BDSM while sober, using safe words and with care.

Ok, so why was Sex::Tech complicated? Because we don’t all think to address and challenge sexism in our approach to sexual education, because we’re not queer and trans-inclusive in our pedagogy, because we don’t address intersectionality and privilege enough, because involving men in gender-violence prevention is still a new concept… and on and on…

If you’re comfortable in your coalition, your coalition isn’t big enough. I’m thrilled that these debates were sparked, and here’s to making Sex::Tech even BIGGER next year!